


It's a Deal

by orphan_account



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Dib is Not a Xenophile, Dib is Of Legal Age (Invader Zim), Dirty Jokes, Dubious Consent, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Offensive Humor, Problems, Subverts Expectations, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ZADE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zim, after completing a critical step of his plan, gets some time for himself. He soon realizes he's frustrated with having an unbearable urge, so he turns to his nemesis for help. Dib is reluctant at first, but is offered a deal he can't refuse.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	It's a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> There were a lot of cliches that I kept seeing while reading IZ fics _cough_ only like two things mainly _cOUGH_ , so I wanted to subvert some of them.
> 
> Oh yeah, there are some offensive jokes in here, so don't yell at me. You've been warned! :3

Zim squealed in happiness, as he wiggled in his circular chair. He was situated in a bubble-like room, where a computer monitor showed a loading webpage. GIR sat on the invader's desk, entranced by the spinning wheel. The small, green alien rubbed his hands together, grin stretching off of his face. After what he deemed a second too long, the screen loaded. It showed a list of Chinese characters. With his PAK, he translated the words with ease. When he read the last character, he hollered with glee!

"GIR! I have done it!" he screamed, punching the air, "I've bought China! The apex of my master plan!" He whispered, "I am now their secret dictator. Perfect!"

GIR whistled, seeming to be impressed. Cackling filling the air, the alien crawled out of the circular computer room, with GIR trailing close behind. 

"I've forgotten what success feels like!" he declared. "It feels great. Though, this is only one step of my perfect plan to obliterate Earth!"

"Whuzzat?" GIR intelligently asked.

"I'm going to ramp up coal usage, which will create so much smoke and carbon dioxide, it'll kill all of the humans! Oh, I'm such a genius."

He simmered in his pride, as his spider legs crawled up a tall, dark, skinny tube. He held GIR like a teddy bear, PAK legs making unnerving scraping metal noises. The alien hopped out of the tube, and took a left down a magenta hallway. He pried open a heavy, steel door, and sidestepped inside. With GIR slipping in, Zim pulled the solid door shut. The new room was dark, except that the floor throbbed a cold, dark blue light. In the small room, there sat a table with a hole in the middle. Screens were attached to the ceiling, along with a few carts of technology that straddled the bedside. Upon further inspection, the short table had a multitude of cables and wires in the hole, sticking out like goosebumps.

"I was thinking we could view my memories as a sort of... Celebration. Yeah."

He laid onto the table, body perfectly fitting into it. Wires shot out from the hole, and punched into his PAK. The screen he looked straight on at showed him a collection of files.

"I mean," he admitted to GIR, who was staring deeply into the floor, "I've been wanting to do this for a while anyway. Who knew negotiations with a giant entity could make Zim so _busy_?"

With his three-fingered hand, he yanked a nearby cart on wheels. He grouped the top shelves, and found the controls for the panel attached to the low ceiling. With his arm twisted at an odd angle, he clacked assorted keys. Unsure of where to start, he picked a random memory. The screen showed him, from his first-person perspective, tensely leaning on a store counter. He immediately recognized it as when he was a Fast Food Drone. Protesting beings crowded the overstuffed store. He remembered a large swath of aliens were there because the company he worked for did some bad stuff; he couldn't quite recall the exact reason. They filled the seats, screamed, and shouted, but their huffing and puffing did them no good. Zim smiled, as he watched himself observe security guards beat varied aliens senseless.

"I'm glad I moved myself out of exile," he joyously murmured to himself.

He closed out of the file, and scrolled to the very beginning of his existence. He frowned, as he noted all of his earliest memories were reduced to a horrible image quality. There were only a handful of pixels left! He begrudgingly deleted them; a cluster of indescribable pixels had no use to him now. The alien clacked a few more buttons, and opened another file. He recognized the location, which was an Irken training center, deep in the planet's center. Or at least underground. He was yelling at a wide Irken, equal to his height. Confused, Zim closed the tab, unable to answer why he remembered that.

Uncaringly pushing the thoughts away, his awkwardly placed arm clacked a few more keys. The screen displayed a vulgar memory. His eyes widened, harshly reminded. The screen displayed a nude, female Irken being roughly shoved onto a couch. She was moaning, but she didn't look too comfortable. Zim's face burned, as he quickly turned off the footage; not because of the inappropriate sex act that was displayed, but rather, he remembered he was a bit pushy about the whole thing.

Shoving down shame that was writhing in his organs, he muttered, "Oh, well. I'm sure she's fine."

He sat up, wires immediately unplugging from his back. The screen on the ceiling turned off, which made the room return to a lonely blue. GIR was nowhere to be found; the heavy doors had slid open just a hair.

"Oh, I've just been talking to myself this whole time," he murmured sourly.

He shambled over and closed it, deep in his thoughts. He trudged back to the chair, and heaved himself upon it. He criss-crossed his legs, sitting upright. The alien's mind wandered aimlessly. Somehow, it shambled over to humans.

"Despite all the years I've studied them," he complained to himself, "I don't get their strange culture. Humans can gain favors from some worm on the street, but if you ask someone you know nicely, they scrunch up their faces and whine about how it's inappropriate. They're such sensitive worms! On Irk, we have some _dignity_ in settling primal urges. At least we don't sell our bodies on the street. Those worms'll do anything for the monies."

He flopped on his stomach. The alien laid sideways on the chair, so his small legs dangled pitifully. His mind started mulling about Irk, which flooded his body with negative emotion. Even though he was familiar with a variety of Irkens, he was rejected by all of them.

"God, I haven't gotten laid in years," he moaned. He propped up his head with his hands. "Why is it called getting laid, anyway? Humans can't lay eggs. Unless 'laid' means something else."

He tried think of what the phrase could mean, but he felt like his brain was turned to mush. Like a broken CD, his mind repeated only one thing, and it got stronger and stronger each time. Zim bit his lip, unable to push aside the heat that swelled within his small body.

Peeling himself off of the table, he muttered, "If all Irkens I know have rejected me, than who could mate with me?"

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

"No! I am not asking the Dib-human!"

He put aside his status as an Irken Elite Invader to ponder it seriously. Dib was the only human he could technically call a friend. Even though they brawled every other day, and ruined each other's plans, they always paired up with each other. Whether they had classes together, or had a group project, they always stuck with each other. He cursed the hi-skool children's social isolation, which caused this predicament. Another point popped into his head; Dib had recently turned eighteen, the year where children legally become adults. Even if they still acted like children. Zim scowled, as he tried to think of another living being in close proximity. 

He sighed, as his new reality began to settle like dust. Dib was the only human who could satisfy Irken society's standards. If he picked up some random human on the street, he'd surely be scorned. Not that anybody would know; after all, he was the only Irken on this dirtball. However, Zim didn't feel like taking his chances when it came to throwaway intimacy.

"Goddamnit."

Zim banged on the Membrane family's front door. He nervously wiggled his fingers, intertwining them, and then pulling them apart. After waiting a moment, he was about to turn his heel, but the door creaked open. Dib, in his signature black trenchcoat and graphic tee, popped out from the inside. Only his head and shoulders were visible. An eyebrow was arched.

"What do you want?" Dib snapped.

"I would like to make a special deal. However, I would like to describe these terms in private, which is why you should come to my base."

The young man stepped out of the doorway, and closed it behind him. His face plastered with confusion.

He commented, "That's cryptic."

"The terms to this deal are very private."

The short alien impatiently tapped his foot, as the human eyed him suspiciously.

"Private, huh?" he jabbered. "What kind of private?"

"W-well, uh, you know, _private._ "

Jumping to conclusions, Dib declared loudly, "Do you want to bang me?"

Zim gawked, brain unable to process the new information. "How did you know?!"

The young man let out a barking laugh. It echoed around the quiet, darkening neighborhood. The setting sun shone in their eyes, partially blocking Zim's embarrassed, deep green face.

"Yeah, that's going to be a no."

Zim gulped; his chances were slipping fast! He knew he needed to think quickly.

"W-well, I have a deal you can't turn down! But only if you come with me to my base."

"That just sounds like you're going to rape me."

"I would never!" Zim shrieked, horrified. "Invaders have standards."

Crossing his arms, Dib argued, "Yet kidnapping and torture is fine?"

The alien facepalmed. "Can we please discuss this in by base?"

"Yeah, sure."

The human stuck his head into the door, and yelled at his sister about how he would be back in a while. Dib closed the door, and calmly walked down his front lawn, passing the surprised invader. He stood still, dumbstruck. Realizing his on-the-spot plan had worked, he sprinted over to the human to try and catch up with him.

"So," Dib stated seriously, "What is this 'deal that I can't refuse'?"

The human was stretched out on Zim's couch, blocking the invader from sitting. He sat on his side, gazing coolly at the alien.

With a grin that stretched off of his face, Zim vaguely answered, "Information."

The invader saw the human's eyes widen.

As the alien paced in long strides around his living room, he declared, "With my extended stay here on Earth, I have been tight-lipped about Irken society, culture, and Irkens in general. However! I will, as humans say, 'spill the beans.' The space beans."

"And, in return," Dib stated, "Sex."

"Yep!"

He put aside his status as an Earth Defender to ponder his offer. On one hand, this was a glorious opportunity. The only thing he knew about Irkens was that they liked to destroy things. He had many questions bouncing around his head about his species, such as: what do they eat, why are they interested in taking over Earth when humans pose no threat to them, what guts do they have, and, his favorite, are they all really this short. Plus, fucking an alien? It sounded super cool. On the other hand, Zim was not cool in any capacity. Curiosity and vanity warred over who would make the final decision.

Dib found himself stating, "I agree."

Zim thrust his fist in the air. Jubilant, he squealed, "Yes! Finally! Thirteen time's a charm!"

"Did you ask thirteen people?" Dib began to ask, but the overjoyed alien yanked him by his hands off of his couch.

The invader hauled his tall body with his PAK legs, and stuffed him down the secret entrance of his base. It was a miracle he fit in the disguised trash can. The small alien quickly hopped in after him. They shot down a high-speeds pipe, and tumbled into a magenta hall. Zim quickly scrambled to his feet, casually brushing dust off of his clean tunic. Dib, meanwhile, shakily coughed, and barely managed to stand on two legs. 

Zim answered, "Not people, Irkens."

"Oh, so I'm your backup, huh?"

Rather annoyed the human kept insulting him, he groaned, "We're enemies. Of course I'd ask you last."

They tensely strode down the hall. At first, the alien stomped angrily, but he quickly began to lighten up, skipping a little. Dib, in contrast, shuffled anxiously.

"Is this really a good idea?" Dib thought.

He swallowed, stomaching his fear. The young man snapped out of his reverie, noticing how much faster Zim was walking.

"Jeez, you're really exited," Dib commented, trying to keep up with him despite his short stature.

"Oh, I am!" Zim chirped happily. "I haven't had sex since the time I was gangbanged by Space Muslims!"

"What?!" Dib shrieked, stopping in his tracks. "Are- are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I deleted the memories. Heck, I haven't thought about it until I brought it up just now! Plus, Irkens heal much, much more efficiently than you puny worms. The gang got executed right after, so it's fine."

They trotted down the hall, except now, the air between them was darker. Dib mulled over what Zim had said.

"What the fuck is a Space Muslim?"

"Isn't it obvious? A pirate in space!"

The young man looked queerly at the smug alien.

"Muslims are labeled terrorists, not pirates."

Crossing his arms in disagreement, Zim countered, "Terrorists and pirates are the same thing."

The human stuck his hands in his pocket, brain churning.

"Erm," he decided, "There's a lot of differences. Like, a lot."

"Whatever!" Zim barked, uncomfortable his logic had been beaten like a wife in the 1930's, "The point is, they're dead! You know, I used to live in a society where men were respected. Where rape cases were taken seriously!"

Dib absentmindedly scratched the side of his head. "But rape cases _are_ taken seriously?"

"Yes! When the woman is the victim. However, when she's the perpetrator, she gets a slap on the wrist! How many female victim cases have you heard?"

"A lot."

"And how many male victim cases have you heard?"

"Uh..."

"Exactly!" the furiously alien exclaimed, "And yet, nearly half of all rape victims are men! How retarded is that- Hey, that's the room!"

Zim, cutting in front of Dib, ran head-on into a door with a loud clang. Cursing under his breath, he jabbed at a keypad next to him, which automatically opened the door. With a hurt pride, and an embarrassed dark-green face, he tensely strode into the room. The small space reminded the young man of a doctor's office, if the doctor was a mass murderer. Shelves and counters were filled with glass jars of alien body parts. Dib grimaced, gawking at an especially gruesome chunk of flesh, pulsating in a yellow liquid. The room had a clinical look to it, being illuminated by a single white light that was attached to the pale ceiling.

Thankful that the conversation had died, Dib suggested, "So, I'm going to start my side of the deal."

He grabbed a small, yellow notepad and a weathered pen from his pocket. Zim creased his forehead, staring at his items with large, ruby, bug eyes.

"Do you always carry that around?"

"You never know when odd things are going to happen," Dib confessed confidently.

"Huh. Well, I wanna go first!" Zim whined.

Crossing his arms, the young man argued, "Once you're done with me, you're just going to throw me away. You have all the power in this situation, since this is your base. So, no, you're not going first."

Zim opened his mouth to protest, but than shut it.

He sourly thought, "At least he established I'm the one in control here."

The alien clambered up a human-sized chair. It was extended fully back, so it looked more like a table. It was covered with cheap, padded leather, reminding Dib of a dentist's chair. The young man spent the next chunk of time listening to Zim ramble on about his culture. He furiously scrambled down notes, as he raved about both the positives and negatives of his beloved society.

After a barrage of questions, Zim moaned, "Are you done?"

"I'm only getting started!" Dib exclaimed.

The alien sighed, and rubbed his temples. "Three more questions. That's it."

He complained, "Hey, that wasn't part of the deal!"

The alien snapped, "Well, now, I'm adding to it!"

Dib sighed, peeved that he wouldn't get anywhere with arguing.

To his questions, Zim answered, "Irk has a communist economic-whatever. A good one, at that," "I haven't really explored that much of Irk. I just assume it's all industrialized, _yes the whole planet is covered in machinery_ , so there's nothing _pretty_ to look at," and, "No, I can't pick up a prostitute! I'd be shunned forever!"

Zim complained, "Alright, is that enough?"

Lifting the tip of his pen a hair, he somberly replied, "Yep."

"Alright! My turn!" Zim chirped.

Dib sighed, trying to remove bubbling stress from his body. The alien flopped onto his back, stretching like a cat. Fumbling with his notepad and pen, he nervously approached the padded, leathery table. It was humorously big for the small alien.

"Whassamatter? This is supposed to be fun!" chimed the alien, who was impatiently drumming his sharp fingers onto the table.

He gave a half-hearted shrug, as he sat next to Zim's feet. "Nervous of what I'll find, I guess?" he mused.

Zim tut-tut-tutted, and shook his head. He slyly insulted, "You humans and your misplaced fears. My innards are not going to kill you."

"No, it's not that. It's just... Alien junk. What do you expect?"

"You should've asked when you had the chance!"

"Well, I was going to, but you're too horny to wait five minutes."

"Yep!"

The young man scowled. Nervousness unquenched, he stared at his stuffed notepad, absentmindedly tapping the pen onto the piece of paper. Zim cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the padded table as if annoyed.

"Would you like to do the honors?" he purred, as he posed dramatically.

Smiling, Dib remarked, "You're such an attention whore."

"I am not a prostitute," Zim argued.

Rolling his eyes and smirking, he flopped down his notepad on the extra space near the alien's feet. With slight hesitation, he slid his hand up the invader's shirt. He felt him flinch under his cold fingers. He shuffled the shirt up over his head, and around his antennae. Dib gazed at his exposed chest, looking unpleased. A few small, light green scars dotted his body. What was most unpleasant to the young man, however, was the inhuman creases around the parts of his body that twisted and pivoted. The skin wrinkled in an almost, but not quite, human way. The Uncanny Valley was present. Eager to avert his eyes, he flopped Zim's hand onto his own. There was a clear size difference. Dib tugged off his tight, black gloves. He stared at Zim's fingernails, which looked like cones fused to the tips of his fingers. The base of the nail was yellow, like a tooth. Curious, Dib took his own nail and scratched it, creating a small valley in the ugly cone.

"Hey!" Zim snapped, "They're breakable!"

"Is that why you wear gloves?"

"That, and it look badass."

Zim peeled off his other glove, revealing the same disgusting fingernails. The alien flexed his hands, uncannily reminding Dib of the way his own hands wrinkled and creased. Eager and at the same time anxious to explore his body, Dib put his hands on the alien's boot.

"Um... Oh, nevermind," mumbled Zim.

"What?" Dib asked, curiosity struck.

"I said never mind!"

Zim's cheeks were tinted a darker shade of green, and he avoided eye contact.

Attempting to guess, Dib mused, "Going to tell me you have an STD? Or foot fungus?"

"Irkens have eradicated our diseases!"

"Good to know."

The young man yanked off his boot, and scowled. It was even more grotesque than his own species' feet! Zim owned two toes on his foot, toenails yellowed and slightly crusty.

Zim murmured, "This is going to sound stupid, but Zim is self-conscious about his feet."

"No, that's not stupid. All feet are ugly. Unless you're a foot-fetish person."

Zim made a disgusted face, which made Dib laugh. He felt a little less stress on his chest. The human tugged off his other boot, and flopped it haphazardly with the rest of the clothes on the floor. Zim collapsed onto his back, PAK cushioned by the padded material.

"Saving the best for last?" he teased, posing like a supermodel.

With a chuckle, Dib scribbled a few things into his notepad. He placed his paper down, than sat on the table. He thumbed the waistband of his pants. He paused, mouth pulled into a nervous frown.

"It's not going to kill you," Zim pointed out.

Dib knew he was being irrational, but he stammered, "But what if it does?"

"I'll do the paperwork."

Even though it was a joke, he still felt comforted. Attempting to shove fear back into his stomach, he put both hands on his waist, and pulled down. Sweat dotting his forehead, he stared intently at the table, averting his eyes as best as he could. He threw his pants across the room with a great amount of force that wasn't necessary at all. He gulped, as he gathered up the strength to look. Dib gawked at what he saw.

Dib reasoned that since Zim was a male, he would have some kind of tentacle, or rod or... something. He, however, was surprised that he found the exact opposite. Zim had an entrance that wasn't anything Dib had ever seen. It was y-shaped, and it wasn't very big. Dib shakily grabbed his notepad and pen, eyes soaking in all details in horror. He quickly scratched down some notes to let his eyes heal.

Dib rasped, "Your man-vag looks deformed."

"That's because it is."

He burst into laughter! Dib clutched his stomach, guffawing obnoxiously, while Zim scowled.

"Silence your giggling! The Control Brains are trying to breed breeding out of us, so of course it's in the process of becoming vestigial. Useless, primitive, sex organs aren't needed anymore, since we breed artificially."

Dib fanatically scribbled down more things in his small notebook.

"So stop criticizing my organ, and just touch me already!"

"Whatever."

He frowned at the human's apprehensiveness to his needs. The alien felt his past mistakes eat at his neck and chest. He told himself that Dib agreed to this, that he knew what he was getting into. Though, his Irken acquaintance knew what she was getting into, and yet...

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Zim blurted out.

Dib jerked up, startled by the sudden noise.

"I mean, uh, we agreed to it," Dib mumbled submissively.

Zim loudly argued, "We can change it if you want."

"You're probably going to steal my organs if you change it, so I'm fine. This isn't so bad."

"I'm sure you don't need all of your kidneys," offered Zim, owning a smirk.

Copying his coy smile, Dib snapped, "I think I do."

The young man centered his attention back to his body. Zim's... whatever was leaking a chunky, light lime-green substance, the walls of his organ blocked by an opaque semi-liquid. Dib traced a finger around his inner thigh. He felt the alien tense to his touch.

"Aren't you, erm," shyly muttered Zim, "going to take off your clothes?"

"I'll get to it in a minute. I'm just, uh, _testing the waters_."

Without warning, he jabbed his index finger inside his hole. A startled peep escaped escaped the invader's lips. Enthusiastic pleasure coursed through his small body, as the young man swabbed his insides. He pulled out with a glob of lime colored goo coating his finger. Observing his appendage at every angle, he scowled at how the semi-liquid moved. In some areas, it flowed without resistance. However, in others, it grouped in chunks, and methodically trailed down his finger.

He commented quietly, "This is so gross."

Immediately, he licked it.

"Bluh!" he loudly exclaimed, spitting onto the laboratory floor, "It tastes like cheese!"

"It does not!" Zim countered.

Heaving himself into a sitting position, he stuck a finger into his entrance. He jabbed it into his mouth. Instantaneously, his face twisted in agony.

"Oh my god! It does!" Zim screeched, utterly displeased.

Dib laughed at his enemy, pride swelling knowing he was right. However, his glory was short-lived. A slight tingling sensation was bubbling on the skin that was covered in goop.

The young man whined, "Hey, Zim? Is your gunk supposed to sting, because my finger feels like it's burning off."

"No?"

Suddenly, his pain started to escalate from slight annoyance to near torture! He could hear his skin sizzling away from the chemical reaction. With a slew of colorful curses, he raggedly wiped the foreign substance on his jeans; the substance was still frothing. Biting his lip, he vigorously shook his hand, as if the pain would be slung away. He dragged his irritated tongue along his coat sleeve, relieving it of the cheese-tasting substance. His index finger was now a bright red, with darker red splotches. He looked down at his pants to survey the damage. To his horror, the substance had burned a hole, exposing the side of his underwear.

He pointed his injured organ toward's Zim's hole.

"I'm not sticking my dick in that."

A single bullet of sweat dripped down the back of the alien's neck. He estimated his chances were near zero percent. He bit his lip, brain churning answers to this puzzle as fast as he could.

"Well, you could, um..."

Zim's ruby red eyes scanned the room for answers. They widened when he discovered an answer.

"You could wear my glove!"

Dib sourly picked up said item with his left hand. He could almost stick a few fingers in.

"Yeah, no."

Zim whined obnoxiously. "Well, think of something!"

"Aren't you a supergenius?"

"You're a supergenius too!"

Dib suddenly felt a wave of bashfulness swamp his consciousness. His cheeks burned, more than they already were.

The young man mentioned, "You could make a machine that makes a condom."

"But that takes time! And I want it now!"

Zim's voice was becoming shrill, as he stood up on the chair. His lips were curled upward in a snarl. A wave of fear, sparkling like electricity, erupted in Dib's veins.

"I, well, um," he sputtered, brain too intimidated to form coherent words.

Zim, with the help of his PAK legs, slithered off of the table. He was nearly his height when they were fully extended. The alien leaned in closely to his nemesis' face, so close that they shared the same air.

"You're not going to be of any use to me?"

His lips were too busy trembling, so he shrugged his shoulders.

As loudly as he could, Zim screeched, "Then get out!"

In a frenzy of panic, Dib punched the small screen. The door creaked open. With adrenaline coursing through his body, he sprinted down the hall, as fast as a gazelle. He didn't know if Zim was going to try and chase him, or what he was going to next, or how he was going to get out of his base. He wasn't thinking at all; his brain was a scrambled egg of fear, guilt, and relief. Turning a corner, a dead end appeared before his eyes. He was about to turn back around, when a platform underneath him shuddered, launching him upwards. It traveled upwards a few levels, than stopped suddenly. He took a few, shaky steps, than started back into a run.

"Okay," he huffed to himself, "How am I going to get out of- Augh!"

Dib howled, as he slipped down a hole in the middle of the hallway. How he didn't notice the gaping thing was a mystery to him. The walls were lined with smooth metal, which had scars created by the PAK legs. His screams of terror echoed through the tube, as he watched light, like a pinhole, disappear. Metal was grinding against his stomach, making his body heat up. Suddenly, he collapsed on the dark floor of a small, circular room. Only a weird, alien chair, a normal-looking desk, and a computer monitor were visible.

Rubbing a sore spot on his back, Dib muttered to himself, "I'll, uh, stay put for now. Not like I can climb out of here, anyway."

The only way in and out of the room was via slippery, stainless steel metal. Staring suspiciously at the computer monitor, he straddled the small chair. It didn't quite fit him, as it curved in a way that made him slouch at an extreme angle. The monitor displayed a string of Chinese characters. There were a few plain-looking buttons on the screen. Gripping a brick-like, black mouse, he clicked a random one. It brought him to a completely white screen, with no option of going to the previous page.

"I hope that wasn't anything important," he thought.

Unbeknownst to him, he had just clicked the button to sell China.

**Author's Note:**

> Practice safe sex; otherwise, your dick'll burn off.
> 
> That's a nice image...


End file.
